Fat Girl

…and she sits across the room
in that damn white dress,
and I'm not gay,
but I can't look away.
Legs so long and smooth,
I want them.

My mother used to tell me
that fat
was in my head.
That if I thought myself large,
I was,
my figure dependent on my mind.
So I thought differently.
I thought about short shorts,
tank tops, sun tans,
running, dancing, calories,
sex, attraction, vomiting,
skin and bones,
blood and muscle.
There's no room in my life for mistake,

…and yet I carry on living,
with the notion that my size
is the definition of the person I am.
Not my character, not my smile,
not my "pretty face",
but the person that stretches skin.
I am my own mistake.
My mother also taught me silence.
I shouldn't pretend to defend myself,
it only hurts.
Just laugh
at myself, with them,
shed tears, slap knees,
just laugh.
Let the world tumble away,

…and pretend like it can't see me.
I taught myself to binge with no purge,
the fat girl can't even throw up right.
I don't want to hear you say
"you have a pretty face".
I say I am fat
you say no, you are beautiful.
I wonder why I cannot be both.